


Mercy Rule

by tinycecropia



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 13:29:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11441889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tinycecropia/pseuds/tinycecropia
Summary: It’s the summer before Chanyeol and Kyungsoo go to university. They kiss sometimes, and Chanyeol spends a lot of time thinking about it.





	Mercy Rule

They became friends after Kyungsoo broke Chanyeol’s arm—not that Kyungsoo did it on purpose.  They had played on the same baseball team when they were eight years old, meeting at the neighbourhood park to stumble around the diamond every weekend. Chanyeol had tripped over Kyungsoo’s foot on a mad dash to home base. He had landed hard on his right arm. Amongst the gasps of parents and Kyungsoo’s wide-eyed apologies, Chanyeol’s laughter rang out. He had managed to slide into home.

After the adrenaline wore off he cried like a baby while Kyungsoo’s parents repeatedly apologized. Chanyeol’s dad insisted that it was fine, it wasn’t Kyungsoo’s fault. He assured them that with Chanyeol’s clumsiness he was bound to break a bone eventually.

Kyungsoo sat next to Chanyeol on the way to the hospital. Chanyeol’s parents were surprised to hear Chanyeol giggling between sobs; Kyungsoo was telling him jokes in the back seat. Chanyeol’s tear-and-snot stained face wasn’t contorted with pain anymore. Chanyeol believed this is what cemented he and Kyungsoo’s friendship.

Years later Chanyeol used his broken arm as a bargaining chip—only a couple times a year or else the effect would wear off, he theorized, but when he _really_ wanted a glass of water he’d shove his arm in Kyungsoo’s face so he could see the faint white scar from the surgery.

“You’d think the least you could do is get me water, right? You broke my arm.”             

“Chanyeol. That was ten years ago.”

“Still.”

“Maybe I should break your other arm,” Kyungsoo muttered, but he got up to get the water anyway.

“Probably a bad idea,” Chanyeol called after him. “You’d have to bring me _so_ much water.”

Chanyeol had always imagined the baseball field as _their_ place. The unimpressive dirt diamond, stamped into the ground by hundreds of kids’ feet tracing it, the outfield grass that was always too long, the dugouts that were recessed just a foot below ground level and that always collected spiders in the corners. It was a small field in their neighbourhood where young kids goofed off and called it “playing baseball”, but the trees that lined the chain-link fence had Chanyeol and Kyungsoo’s names etched into them.

They spent a lot of time on the field even though neither of them played baseball anymore. The Broken Arm Incident pretty much ended both of their baseball careers. Sometimes they would catch some kids playing a game and sit at a picnic table, cheering them on. On humid summer evenings when the field was empty they would sit in the outfield, Kyungsoo pulling grass out in clumps.

“I don’t know,” Kyungsoo said one evening, “Going to university is just the thing to do, right?”

He and Chanyeol were lying back in the outfield looking up at the too-big sky. Clouds crawled sluggishly across their field of view and the sun was near disappearing in the west.

“Like, you can’t get a good job without it,” Kyungsoo continued. “And my parents would be upset if I didn’t go. Plus, what would I do instead?”

Chanyeol nodded thoughtfully. “Your parents _would_ be upset.”

“And it’s not like I’d hate to go. I just don’t really _want_ to.”

Chanyeol hummed. A lazy summer breeze blew his long hair into his face and he gently tucked it behind his ear. He had been growing it out all year and it finally fell just past his shoulders in dyed auburn waves.

“You’ll be good at it though,” Chanyeol said. “I guess that doesn’t matter if you don’t enjoy it, but you’re a good student when you put your mind to it.” Kyungsoo laughed.

“I’ve been actively avoiding my homework all weekend” he pointed out.

“Yeah, whatever. You’ve never missed class and that counts for something.”

“I never fall asleep in class either.”

“A growing boy needs sleep!” Chanyeol protested. Kyungsoo knew that Chanyeol stayed up late working on any number of hobbies he had, most of them musical.

“You gonna apply to music programs?” Kyungsoo asked.

The deadline for university applications was still months away, but most everyone had already prepared for their choice school. Chanyeol smiled.

“Yeah. I think that would be fun. What about you?”

“No idea.”

“You should apply to music too! We could be in the same program,” Chanyeol said excitedly. Kyungsoo shrugged.

They had both decided that their top pick school was the university at the heart of their city; that way they wouldn’t have to move out of their parents’ homes for a few years. Neither of them said so, but Chanyeol felt they were also doing it so they wouldn’t be split apart by distance. At least, Chanyeol knew that was a deciding factor for him. He didn’t want to be without Kyungsoo.   

“Are you worried about going to university?” Chanyeol asked.

Kyungsoo pushed himself into a seated position. He looked up at the darkening sky, still a bit orange on the horizon but with stars winking down directly above them.

“Yeah,” he replied quietly.

Chanyeol, sitting up now, threw an arm over Kyungsoo’s shoulder and joined him in looking at the stars. The September air was just starting to get cool in the evenings. Soon they’d have to bring jackets with them when they went to the diamond.

“Me too,” Chanyeol said, “But I have a good feeling about it.” He brought his hand up to ruffle Kyungsoo’s hair. “Senior year!”

Kyungsoo shook his head with a smile. He always made fun of Chanyeol for putting so much weight behind ideas of milestones—“as if it means anything,” he would argue. Their last year of being in high school together still felt significant to Chanyeol.

 

**

 

When eight-year-old Chanyeol got his cast put on Kyungsoo was the first to sign it. He even signed it before Chanyeol’s older sister Yoora had the chance to, and his tidy signature was the one Chanyeol was happiest to show off when the cast was inevitably covered in his classmates’ names. Chanyeol had been a sociable kid—and still was—but Kyungsoo was his first _best friend_. Chanyeol was proud to have his new friend’s signature on his neon green cast.

He invited Kyungsoo over as soon as his parents would allow it (although they did make him promise that he and Kyungsoo wouldn’t play baseball). Kyungsoo ended up loving the family cat, who was an eight-year-old skinny girl who stayed away from pretty much everyone but Chanyeol. The whole family was surprised when she approached Kyungsoo and rubbed at his leg, croaking out a meow. He bent down to pet her with a smile and Chanyeol smiled too. It could only be a good sign.

Chanyeol’s parents owned a restaurant where Chanyeol spent long hours in his youth, playing make-believe or watching movies on the TV they had set up in the back room for him. Yoora would play with him, too. She was Chanyeol’s favourite playmate after Kyungsoo (because he loved her, but she did try to boss him around sometimes). The two of them would try not to get too much in the way of the customers, but sometimes a game of tag would get a little out of hand and they would make a racket while pushing past Chanyeol’s dad to catch each other. This was especially true when Kyungsoo started playing with Chanyeol and Yoora—three kids in such a small space screamed “bad idea”.

Chanyeol had idolized Yoora ever since he was young. He wanted to do everything she did. When he was ten he insisted that she teach him how to knit so they could do it together, and with his new skills he made Kyungsoo a terribly ugly scarf (which Kyungsoo wore proudly anyway). When Chanyeol was fifteen he knitted Kyungsoo a new, much nicer scarf of thick navy blue wool. He put all his effort into making sure it was perfect. Chanyeol thought the colour suited Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo must have agreed—he still wore the scarf every winter.

Yoora and Chanyeol were inseparable as kids, but when Chanyeol was fourteen she became so busy with her studies that she hardly had time to hang out with him and Kyungsoo anymore. She moved away to university when Chanyeol was in sophomore year of high school, but she called him to chat when she had time and she always came back for the summers.

“Chanyeol, you got so tall!” she said to him the summer after her first year away. Chanyeol, fresh off a growth spurt, smiled proudly. Kyungsoo smiled up at Chanyeol too. They didn’t know at the time that Chanyeol would end up being a head taller than Kyungsoo.

Now, facing their final year of high school, Chanyeol was six feet tall and a little scrawny. Kyungsoo was five foot six with stubborn acne on his cheeks. They had been best friends for ten years, and Chanyeol knew, deep in his heart, that they would be together forever.

 

**

 

**First Semester, 1996**

Kyungsoo was standing at his locker with his clarinet case, pushing his glasses up on his nose with his free hand, when Chanyeol waved him down from the end of the hall.

“Hey,” Chanyeol said, hoisting the strap of his guitar case up on his shoulder.

“How was bio?” Kyungsoo asked as they started walking towards the music room.

“It was pretty good today. Mr. Baxter played us a song he wrote about DNA sequencing.”

“God, he reminds me of you,” Kyungsoo said with a smile.

“Really?” Chanyeol asked. He felt that it was a compliment; he thought Mr. Baxter was pretty cool, as far as high school teachers go.

“Yeah. I can imagine you playing songs for a class of—well, I think you’d be better with younger kids.”

“Hey, how come? You don’t think I’ll be _cool_ enough to teach high schoolers?”

Kyungsoo laughed and shook his head.

“I just think you’re really good with young kids. It suits you.”

Chanyeol looked at his feet while he smiled. Something about the compliment made him feel warm to the tips of his toes.

When the class schedules had come out in late August Chanyeol had immediately compared his with Kyungsoo’s. Kyungsoo had drama and musical theatre where Chanyeol had sciences. Chanyeol had English second semester while Kyungsoo had it first semester, and they had history with different teachers. They didn’t share _any_ classes in second semester. But for now, Chanyeol felt lucky to share music class with Kyungsoo.

However, since the seats were assigned by instrument, Chanyeol and Kyungsoo couldn’t sit together in class. They couldn’t even whisper to each other between songs. From Chanyeol’s position at the back of the room (unfortunately close to percussion and the over-zealous gong player) he could only see the back of Kyungsoo’s head. He had seen Kyungsoo play his clarinet before, though. He thought Kyungsoo looked cute with his mouth all pursed when he played.

Kyungsoo had played clarinet since the seventh grade, which was when Chanyeol (not to be outdone) picked up the guitar. He spent a lot of time practicing shitty covers before his playing was decent. Kyungsoo suffered through all of them without complaining once. People used to make sly comments about Chanyeol’s choice of instrument, implying he picked up guitar to woo girls, and Chanyeol would smile half-heartedly at the teasing. Kyungsoo never poked fun at him, though, and for that he was grateful.

Music class always went faster than any other 1-hour block at school—at least, it did for Chanyeol. He could tell by the frequency Kyungsoo was looking at the clock, though, that he was doing that thing where he sectioned out the hour-long class to make it more bearable: just five minutes until 2:10, which is practically 2:15, and then only fifteen minutes left until class is out...

When there was only ten minutes left of class Chanyeol quietly took something from its designated pouch in his backpack. He tapped the shoulder of the kid in front of him and when he turned around Chanyeol handed him a cassette tape case with a sticky note attached: “PASS TO KYUNGSOO.” Chanyeol watched his note’s progress as the boy tapped the shoulder of a girl in the flute section, who then whispered to her friend on her left, who finally tapped Kyungsoo on the shoulder and delivered the package to him. Kyungsoo thanked her and shot Chanyeol a look, quickly turning back to the front of the class before he got caught.  Kyungsoo took his chance while Ms. Wong scribbled on the whiteboard to peel the sticky note off of the case and read the tracklist of the newest mixtape Chanyeol had carefully curated for him.

It was something of a tradition by now; the two of them would take turns making mixes for each other with any new songs they thought the other should hear. Even though Kyungsoo was especially into goth music and Chanyeol couldn’t help himself from singing along to the Spice Girls, they had more in common with their music taste than anyone would expect. Kyungsoo’s subtle thumbs up told Chanyeol he was satisfied with the tracklist which was a mix of new Smashing Pumpkins, Gene Loves Jezebel, and a single Spice Girls song. As a joke. Sort of.

If Chanyeol had remembered his good headphones he knew they would have taken turns listening to the mix on his Walkman while they walked home, but if they waited until they got back to Chanyeol’s house they could both enjoy the music together. That was how Chanyeol liked it, anyway.

 

**

 

University application dates arrived sooner than expected. After mulling it over for a few months Kyungsoo had decided to apply to the music program at his target school; if he was going to be at university, he might as well be studying something he was interested in.

The process for Chanyeol and Kyungsoo’s applications were slightly different from most of their classmates. Aside from sending in their transcripts, they both had to audition with their chosen instruments. To enter the popular music studies program Chanyeol had to record his audition and bring the tape to the panel who would interview him. Despite being a multi-instrumentalist Chanyeol chose to perform a guitar arrangement for his audition tape. He knew that he was required to be proficient in piano by the end of his first year, as well, but he was already confident enough in his piano skills not to worry about it.

Kyungsoo had been playing clarinet for years, but his real passion lied in singing. As a vocal candidate he would have to perform live in front of a panel in addition to the interview. He was used to singing in front of others after having been in musical theatre during his four years of high school. Still, he seemed more anxious than usual about this particular audition.

“What are you so worried about?” Chanyeol asked him.

They were both sitting on Kyungsoo’s bed hunched over their respective homework. Chanyeol was working on advanced functions. Kyungsoo had been scribbling in the margins of the book he had to read for world literature before he brought up the subject of his audition.

“I don’t know,” Kyungsoo said. He trailed off, looking down at his socked feet. “I’m just worried that my voice isn’t...unique enough.”

“Kyungsoo. Your voice is beautiful.”

“But it doesn’t really have anything memorable about it, does it?”

“ _Of course_ it does. It’s really smooth.”

“Well, yeah, exactly. I’m no Kurt Cobain.”

“Kurt Cobain coughed up blood after his performances,” Chanyeol said. “You don’t have to be like anyone. You can be yourself. I promise that’s good enough, it’s even better than Kurt Cobain.”

“That means alot coming from you,” Kyungsoo said with a small smile.

For his part, Chanyeol spent days ensuring that his audition tape was perfect. It took him an hour to decide what he would wear and forty minutes just to decide where in his room he wanted to film; should he stand in front of the east wall that was covered in band posters, or would that make him look like a try-hard—or worse, like a dork? He settled for sitting at his desk with a plain white wall behind him. That way the interviewers could focus on his music.

The tape began with Chanyeol leaning over the camera to press record before he gave a thumbs up to the lens, and finally picked up his guitar from its stand, slinging the strap over his shoulder. He clicked down the play button on his boombox and waited for his cue in the backing track he had selected. His playing, if he could say so himself, was pretty damn good, and he thought he looked pretty cool despite his hair falling into his face halfway through the tape. He was satisfied with the result. He only hoped the interviewers would be satisfied as well.

Kyungsoo’s audition was scheduled a month before Chanyeol’s. Chanyeol helped him select a song that showcased his vocal range and sat through at least a hundred practice runs, each one more perfect than the last.

“You’ll be amazing,” Chanyeol told him. “I know you will.”

“I wish you could be there with me.”

“I will be there. Right here,” Chanyeol said, pointing at Kyungsoo’s chest. Kyungsoo laughed and playfully smacked Chanyeol’s hand away.

“Cheesy.”

Whatever Kyungsoo said, though, Chanyeol was convinced he appreciated the cheesy encouragement. When Kyungsoo returned from his audition with a big smile on his face Chanyeol gathered him into a hug while trying to blink back tears of pride.

 _Only four more weeks_ , he told himself. Four weeks until his future was decided for him by one audition. He was confident in his tape and confident enough that he could ace the interview, especially after Kyungsoo ran through all the questions they had asked him in the name of preparedness. He definitely understood Kyungsoo’s nerves now, though. The future was pretty daunting.

 

**

 

**Second Semester, 1997**

When Chanyeol opened his locker a small piece of lined paper fluttered to the ground. Unsurprised, he stashed his history book on the top shelf before bending over to pick up the note.

            _Your house after school._

Kyungsoo didn’t have to sign his notes anymore. Chanyeol just recognized his tidy handwriting. He folded the note in half and slid it into his back pocket; he didn’t know why he felt compelled to keep silly things like this, but he always did. Maybe he would start scrapbooking one day. He imagined that most of the book would be pictures of and notes from Kyungsoo.

Chanyeol only had to sit through art class before he was free to walk Kyungsoo home. Art was one of his favourite classes anyway, since he sat at a table with a few guys who were fun to talk to. Sehun spent most of his time talking and handed in all of his assignments late, but he was good company. Junmyeon’s portfolio consisted almost entirely of self portraits and his jokes fell flat most of the time. Jongin didn’t talk as much, since he was usually busy making impressive pieces or else filling his sketchbook with drawings of various dogs, but he was sweet. He was going to an art school out of town next year.

The class was assigned weekly sketchbook practices over the weekend, and this week’s involved drawing a human figure from a live model—it didn’t matter what pose, or who, as long as the focus was on accurate proportions. Chanyeol had already decided to bribe Kyungsoo into sitting for him later that night.

Even though Chanyeol was enjoying working on his abstract acrylic painting he was glad to hear the bell signalling the end of the week. He propped up his panel of wood he was using as a support against the far wall next to Sehun’s Pollock-esque work (his excuse to play around with paint splatters).

Kyungsoo was waiting at Chanyeol’s locker for him when he arrived. He had Chanyeol’s locker door open and was writing something on a sticky note to leave inside. He had known Chanyeol’s locker combination since freshman year and liked to leave doodles for Chanyeol when he wasn’t looking.

“Caught in the act,” Chanyeol said, gesturing to the fat, smiling cat Kyungsoo had been drawing.

“Ah, man, I didn’t know you’d be out this soon.”

“It’s not like I don’t know it’s you.”

“It’s the principle of the matter,” Kyungsoo said. He stuck the note with his drawing inside Chanyeol’s locker, right beside the one from last week of an otter holding a fish. Chanyeol smiled.

“Speaking of drawing, you know those weekly sketchbook assignments we have for class?”

“Yeah,” Kyungsoo responded. He was leaning against the locker next to Chanyeol’s.

“I have to draw you this week.”

“Me? How come?”

“Because I want to,” Chanyeol said with a shrug. He finished rummaging in his locker and turned to Kyungsoo with a smile. “And you’re gonna let me, right? You _did_ break my arm.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll let you.”

The February air had turned Kyungsoo’s nose and cheeks pink by the time they arrived at his house, which only made Chanyeol want to draw him more. _How cute_ , he thought. At least Kyungsoo was wearing the scarf Chanyeol had knit him so he would be warm enough.

They had decided to set up in Chanyeol’s room. Kyungsoo sat on the bed—the folds of the sheets would be Chanyeol’s enemy here, since he was still learning about portraying the way fabric folded—and he crossed his legs, propping up a book from his world literature class so he could read while Chanyeol drew.

Chanyeol’s cat (the very same one that came to greet Kyungsoo the first time he had visited, when they were eight) hobbled into the room with a scratchy meow. She was ancient by now, and much slower, but fonder of Kyungsoo than ever before. She hopped up onto the bed and curled at Kyungsoo’s feet.

Chanyeol tried to follow all the instructions for life drawing he’d been given. He even started with a few gesture drawings, a couple two-minute ones and a five-minute, to warm up. When he was ready to start the actual drawing he sketched a silly-looking skeletal outline of Kyungsoo’s limbs to help him with proportions and then began to fill out Kyungsoo’s form.

Chanyeol carefully followed the folds of Kyungsoo’s flannel and the places where his black jeans wrinkled at his knees. He did his best to recreate the messy off-the-forehead style that Kyungsoo combed his dark hair into; Chanyeol always thought he looked so effortlessly cool. When he reached Kyungsoo’s face he sketched his downcast eyes, a little heavier with the pencil line to replicate the bit of eyeliner Kyungsoo was wearing (his downplayed touch of goth style). And the calm line of his lips—Chanyeol licked his own lips while he drew.

When he had finished the sketch around half an hour later he informed Kyungsoo he was free to move again. Chanyeol pulled out his small watercolour set from his backpack and went to grab a glass of water from the kitchen. He added the lightest wash of pink over Kyungsoo’s cheeks and nose, the only colour in the otherwise monochrome pencil drawing.

“Done,” Chanyeol said, flipping the sketchbook around so Kyungsoo could see his likeness.

“This is...amazing, Chanyeol.”

Chanyeol flushed, proud.

“Thanks. I still need to practice, I can see where the proportions got a little wonky, but...I think it’s pretty good.”

“Thanks for choosing me,” Kyungsoo said with a smile. He reached a hand out to pat Chanyeol’s thigh.

Later that night when Chanyeol was lying in his own bed he thought about his drawing. Maybe he had just spent too much time looking at his own work, but he felt like something was missing. There was nothing he could do, though. There was something indescribable about Kyungsoo’s essence that he wouldn’t be able to pin down in a drawing; it was just something Chanyeol _felt_ when he was around Kyungsoo.

 

**

 

Kyungsoo’s acceptance letter arrived during the final week of February, just like Chanyeol knew it would. There were still several days left until Chanyeol’s audition. Chanyeol was _sure_ that his tape was as good as it could be, especially after he made Kyungsoo and both of his parents watch it several times over. None of this stopped him from feeling nervous.

“What if I don’t get in? I’ll be a year behind you, we won’t graduate together. I won’t be there for your first year!”

Chanyeol dropped his backpack on the floor of his room and flopped face-down onto his bed. Kyungsoo was still standing in the doorframe. He let his backpack slide off his shoulder and onto the floor next to Chanyeol’s.

“Hey, don’t be so down on yourself. Your tape is amazing. You know it is.”

“I’m just so worried that I’ll mess up the interview or...or they’ll have too many students to choose from and I won’t measure up.”

Chanyeol felt the bed dip beside him as Kyungsoo sat down and rested his hand on Chanyeol’s shoulder.

“You know, it’s not the end of the world if you don’t get in. I’ll still be here with you.”

Chanyeol groaned into the mattress. He couldn’t help thinking that Kyungsoo wouldn’t have time for him if he was dealing with school while Chanyeol was stuck at home. _And_ he would probably have new friends to hang out with. Cooler friends than Chanyeol.

“Hey,” Kyungsoo said gently, “do you want me to do your hair?”

Chanyeol turned his head so he could see Kyungsoo out of one eye.

“Yeah,” he mumbled.

Kyungsoo had learned how to braid hair from his mother when he was very young. He used to braid Yoora’s hair for her; as kids he would quickly braid it to keep it out of her face while she played, and as a teenager he would style it for her before she left for school. Chanyeol has plenty of memories of Yoora sitting cross-legged on the floor while Kyungsoo French braided her hair.

Now that Chanyeol’s hair was long enough he was able to experience Kyungsoo’s skills firsthand. He pushed himself reluctantly off the bed and onto the floor. Kyungsoo scooted to the edge of the bed and bracketed Chanyeol with his legs. Chanyeol hummed when Kyungsoo ran his fingers nimbly through Chanyeol’s hair, taking his time to scratch at Chanyeol’s scalp with his short nails just the way Chanyeol liked. His eyes fluttered shut.

Chanyeol ended up with a simple braid. He loved the gentle way that Kyungsoo carded his fingers through his hair. The care that Kyungsoo put into braiding was palpable, and it made Chanyeol feel loved.

“Feel better?” Kyungsoo asked quietly when he was done. Chanyeol smiled and nodded.

“Remember what you told me before my audition? How you would be with me, right here?” Kyungsoo pointed to his own chest.

“Yeah.”

“Me, too,” Kyungsoo said with a smile. “I’ll be there for you. And I promise you’ll do great.”

 

**

 

**March, 1997**

Chanyeol’s audition went about how he expected it to. He was a big ball of nerves and stumbled over his words a few times, but overall he felt  that he had done his best in both the interview and the performance he had taped. The only thing left to see was if his best was good enough to get into the program.

Of course, as soon as his audition was done he invited Kyungsoo over so he could give him a detailed account of what had happened. They had walked to the baseball diamond and were multitasking by doing homework while they talked. This meant that Kyungsoo was fully ignoring the book he had brought with him, laying on his back in the grass with his eyes closed, and Chanyeol was sketching the freshly bloomed daffodils along the fence at the baseball field for his weekly sketchbook assignment.

“They laughed when I did the thumbs up,” Chanyeol said as he looked up from his sketchbook. “I didn’t know if it was because they were making fun of me or because they were charmed.”

“I’m sure they were charmed.”

“I _am_ very charming.”

Kyungsoo opened one eye and shielded his face from the overhead sun. He craned his neck to catch a glimpse of Chanyeol’s sketchbook but Chanyeol pulled it out of his sight.

“Okay, Mr. Charming,” Kyungsoo said.”Are you done or what?”

“You can’t look.”

“Why not?”

“Because.”

Kyungsoo moved so suddenly that Chanyeol was helpless to resist when he snatched the sketchbook from his hands.

“Ah, no fair,” Chanyeol said. He ran his fingers through his hair, feeling flustered.

Kyungsoo studied the sketchbook. The shaded daffodils took up about half the page. The other half was filled with several small sketches of Kyungsoo—a gesture drawing of his torso with his arms stretched over his head, likenesses of his face from different angles, and a careful sketch of his left hand lying in the grass.

“Oh,” Kyungsoo said. “I didn’t know you were drawing me. I would have...I don’t know, posed?”

“No, it’s fine, you—you were a good model,” Chanyeol said. He was relieved when Kyungsoo laughed.

“Thanks. I never thought anybody would compare me to a model.”

“Oh, don’t get confused. You’re way too short to be a fashion model. But an artist’s model? You can pull that off.”

Kyungsoo smacked Chanyeol’s arm with the hardcover sketchbook. Chanyeol laughed and put his hands up as if surrendering.

“Okay, you win,” Chanyeol said. “You’re tall and beautiful.”

“Thank you. You _are_ charming.”

 

**

 

When Chanyeol was growing up he was surrounded by music. His father was a self-taught guitarist, much like Chanyeol himself, and his mother was skilled at piano. She used to write him songs when he was little. He still had an old tape of her singing one of his lullabies in her wistful voice.

It was no surprise, then, that Chanyeol was so enamoured with music, with playing and with listening to whatever he could get his hands on. Kyungsoo’s family wasn’t as musically inclined. Maybe that was why he liked to hang out with Chanyeol’s family so much; Chanyeol guessed he didn’t know anybody else who hosted family jam sessions. Kyungsoo was always invited. Sometimes he even played his clarinet.

Chanyeol’s parents were really like a second family for Kyungsoo. They had even hung a few pictures of Kyungsoo up on the wall in the living room designated for family photos. Kyungsoo groaned when Chanyeol pointed out the one from their elementary school graduation featuring Kyungsoo beside Chanyeol’s parents, sweaty and smiling with a mouthful of braces and an ill-fitting suit.

“That one’s my favourite,” Chanyeol said.

“I can’t believe your mom put that one up.”

“We’re gonna recreate it when we graduate this year.”

“No we’re _not_ ,”

“Come on,” Chanyeol said, “you don’t look like a total dork anymore. You’re cool now. And you’ll be wearing a cap and gown, so at least we don’t have to worry about you getting a suit four times too big.”

“Hey, they didn’t have anything in my size,” Kyungsoo complained.

“I mean it, though. We’re gonna have a picture of you with my parents from elementary school graduation, high school graduation, and university graduation. I’ll hang them all up on the wall.”

Kyungsoo sighed.

“Okay,” he conceded. “It’s a nice idea. My parents will want copies.”

“We’re gonna do a whole graduation photo shoot.”

“We _will not_.”

 

**

 

“Chanyeol?”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol called back from where he was looking through the fridge for something to eat. His mother followed his voice to the kitchen. Chanyeol glanced over at her frame in the doorway and saw that he was holding the daily mail delivery. He turned back to the fridge.

“There’s something for you,” she said. She placed an official looking envelope on the counter.

Chanyeol’s head snapped up. He dashed over to the counter, leaving the fridge door ajar, and ripped open the envelope.  When he pulled out the paper inside with shaking hands he skimmed the first line until he saw the words:

_Mr. Park, we are pleased to inform you..._

“ _I got in_!” Chanyeol yelled.

He gathered his mom, who was over a foot shorter than him, into a tight hug.

“I’m so proud of you,” she said, and Chanyeol could hear the teary note in her voice.

“Hey, mom, don’t cry. It’s okay!”

When he released his mom from his hug he bounced excitedly on the balls of his feet.

“I gotta go tell Kyungsoo!”

Chanyeol rushed upstairs while his mom called after him about forgetting to shut the fridge door. He punched Kyungsoo’s long-memorized phone number into the cordless phone he had in his room—the one he had begged his parents for when Yoora had gotten one for her own room, because he needed to be able to call Kyungsoo. Yoora was always yelling down to keep the line free because her friends were supposed to call her. Chanyeol would laugh and tell Kyungsoo he’d talk to him tomorrow before hanging up.

Kyungsoo’s mom answered the phone after two rings.

“Hello?”

“Hey Mrs. Do, is Kyungsoo home?”

“Hello Chanyeol. Let me grab him.”

Kyungsoo answered the phone groggily.

“Hey Chanyeol, I was just napping—”

“I got in,” Chanyeol rushed to say before Kyungsoo had even finished speaking.

“What?”

“I got in! To the music program!”

“Oh my god, Chanyeol, that’s awesome. I knew you would!”

“I’m so relieved...I know my grades are good enough but I thought that...I don’t know, I guess I thought everyone else’s would be even better, you know, and then I wouldn’t  get in—”

“Hey, you don’t have to worry about it anymore,” Kyungsoo said. Chanyeol heard the smile in his voice when he continued:

“We’re going to be in the same program at the same school. Just like you always said.”

 

**

 

When Chanyeol was little he always imagined that he and Kyungsoo would buy a house together when they grew up so they could live like his parents. They _were_ best friends after all. He wanted to say he had grown out of this phase, but he knew that he hadn’t. The two of them would probably be living at home until they graduated, but Chanyeol still hoped that after university they would move in together.

It was small things that would remind Chanyeol of his childish dream; it was the way that Kyungsoo would make breakfast for the both of them when he slept over at Chanyeol’s house, after the two of them stayed up late into the night playing video games. It was how Chanyeol’s parents treated Kyungsoo like he was part of the family and asked after his parents every time he stayed over for dinner. Kyungsoo was still so polite with Chanyeol’s parents that he asked before he cooked in their kitchen, even though they kept reminding him he could treat their house as if it were his own home.

Chanyeol imagined that if soulmates were allowed to be platonic—weren’t they?—he and Kyungsoo could claim the title. The thought made Chanyeol feel like he had just come home after a long trip. Kyungsoo always felt like home.

And Chanyeol was happy with that. He _had_ been happy with that, at least. Recently he was feeling less sure and more confused. The feeling of satisfaction Chanyeol got when Kyungsoo touched him, played with his hair—was that platonic? And he had this sense of belonging around Kyungsoo, a sense that everything was right as long as they had each other, and all these fleeting thoughts about being together forever. Could he really, truly say that _those_ were only feelings of friendship?

Thoughts of kissing Kyungsoo seemed to creep up on Chanyeol. He was able to push them out of his mind for the most part, but when it was late at night and he was lying in bed, or when he and Kyungsoo were walking down the street after visiting the convenience store and the sun shone golden on Kyungsoo’s gummy smile—sometimes Chanyeol couldn’t help himself. He was realizing he didn’t want to.

 

**

 

**May, 1997**

“Tickets for prom just went on sale,” Chanyeol said, nodding towards the long line-up in the school’s atrium. The prom was happening two weeks before the last day of school, which meant most kids would have checked out by the time the end of classes rolled around, not to mention exams. Kyungsoo huffed.

“It’s a waste of fifty dollars.”

“You think?”

“Yeah,” Kyungsoo said. “The whole idea of trying to dance surrounded by people you don’t even like? The awful music? And you _know_ the food won’t even be good.”

Kyungsoo pulled at the sleeves of his flannel. Chanyeol wondered if there was a part of Kyungsoo that, deep down, wanted to go to prom. Maybe Kyungsoo was the surly bad-boy in the teen movie of Chanyeol’s life, the kind that had a secret wish to experience high school as genuinely as the popular kids did, to just have fun instead of pretending he was above it all. Did that make Chanyeol the upbeat girl that Kyungsoo secretly had a crush on?

Chanyeol broke out of his daydream with a small shake of his head. He tucked some of his hair behind his ear and chided himself gently for being silly. Besides, when Kyungsoo picked up his fork and set in on the pristine lunch his mom had made Chanyeol understood where he was coming from.

“You’re definitely right about the food,” Chanyeol said. Kyungsoo nodded.

“I’d rather pay fifty for a bunch of really great food.”

“Maybe we should do that. Split the cost between us and just go to a nice restaurant.”

Kyungsoo smiled while he chewed.

“Do you want to go?” he asked suddenly.

“Hmm?” Chanyeol hummed.

Kyungsoo looked at him with big, sincere eyes.

“To prom,” he said.

“I—what?”

“Are you going? Are there any girls you like?”

 _Oh,_ Chanyeol thought. He took a deep breath and fiddled with his hoodie’s strings to calm his suddenly excited nerves. At least he knew he could answer honestly: no, there were no girls he liked. He didn’t say that a few boys had caught his eye. He definitely didn’t say that Kyungsoo was one of them.

“Well,” Kyungsoo said, “I’ll be your date then.”

Chanyeol felt like his heart had leapt a foot in his chest, but Kyungsoo continued calmly as if he had no idea what he was doing to Chanyeol’s essential organs.

“Not to prom,” he said. “We can hang out in my basement. With snacks. And alcohol. And _good_ music.”

“Oh,” Chanyeol said, keeping his tone neutral. “Yeah, that sounds great.”

 

**

 

**June, 1997**

Chanyeol and Kyungsoo did not go to their prom, even though Chanyeol kept entertaining fantasies of asking Kyungsoo to be his date, showing up late so they could make an entrance, and having everyone turn to look at the two of them under the twinkle lights. Maybe Chanyeol just watched too many movies, or maybe he only watched the cheesy cliché kind. But Kyungsoo didn’t want to go to the prom because he insisted that it was lame. It was the principle of the matter, he said. He wouldn’t be caught dead at prom. (Plus, Chanyeol knew that Kyungsoo couldn’t dance. Or at least that he wouldn’t try).

To be fair, Chanyeol was a hundred times happier watching B-movies and drinking in Kyungsoo’s basement than going to prom. It might have been because he loved to see Kyungsoo drunk; he hardly let on he was tipsy he was until he stood up and wasn’t able to walk straight at all, and then he would giggle cutely. Chanyeol was an affectionate drunk, which surprised nobody.

In the warm-lit den Kyungsoo had an arm around Chanyeol on the ratty loveseat. Kyungsoo watched the TV screen wide-eyed. Chanyeol had his face tucked against Kyungsoo’s side to avoid jump scares at all costs.

“You’re missing the best part,” Kyungsoo said, nudging Chanyeol. Chanyeol shook his head resolutely and pressed closer into Kyungsoo’s side. He felt Kyungsoo shift a little, reaching, and suddenly the tape’s audio stopped.

“Hey,” Kyungsoo continued, “do you want to go to the diamond?”

Chanyeol peeked up at Kyungsoo who was looking down at him expectantly.

“You’re not gonna be able to walk straight,” Chanyeol said.

“That’s fine. You can hold me up.” Kyungsoo smiled, and it was crazy how his face lit up like that. Chanyeol’s gaze lingered just a second too long before he nodded and pushed himself off the couch.

Chanyeol was right about the whole walking thing. Kyungsoo kept snorting when he missed a step, and Chanyeol would laugh too, which would make Kyungsoo laugh harder. It took them twice as long as it should’ve to get to the baseball diamond. The evening air was warm and sweet, and the sun had just set, leaving behind a deepening blue sky and scattered stars peeking through the streetlights’ haze.

“Hey,” Kyungsoo said suddenly as they passed through the chain-link gate into the park. “Did you hear about Holly and Shane?”

“No?”

“They went to prom together.”

“Are you _kidding_ me? But she’s like...she’s popular! And he’s been in the dungeons and dragons club since fifth grade!”

“I _know,_ ” Kyungsoo said before dissolving into laughter. He flopped down on the grass. “I almost wish I had gone just to see them together.”

“You don’t mean that,” Chanyeol said, dropping down beside Kyungsoo.

“You’re right, I don’t. But it just has me thinking...how much everyone has changed. And how everyone feels like this all matters so much, you know? Who goes to prom with who, and who doesn’t go. Even I feel like that sometimes. But we’re all going to change so much more. We probably won’t recognize anybody in a few years.”

Chanyeol hummed. “I don’t think any of it was a waste,” he said quietly. “Just because it might not matter later? That doesn’t mean it can’t matter now.”

Kyungsoo nodded thoughtfully. The two of them sat with their legs stretched out in front of them, propping themselves up with their hands. Kyungsoo angled his head back to take in the moon’s glow. He closed his eyes.

“I didn’t think it would feel like this,” he said.

“Hm?”

“It really feels like an ending.”

Chanyeol took his chance while Kyungsoo’s eyes were closed, looking over at his profile. He looked so lovely in the diffused moonlight. He didn’t have a chance to look away when Kyungsoo opened his eyes again and directed his gaze at Chanyeol. The eye contact felt heavy, pointed. Chanyeol blinked.

“Do you want to...kiss a bit?” Kyungsoo asked.

Chanyeol felt his brain short circuit. He was suddenly very aware of his facial features (his cheeks were burning, god, what if Kyungsoo noticed? His eyes—he needed to stop staring, and what were his lips even doing?). He had to say something soon, had to figure out something to say—

“Me?” he asked foolishly.

Kyungsoo laughed, Chanyeol’s favourite one that almost sounded like hiccups.

“Yeah, who else?”

After a few moments of silence Kyungsoo leaned away from Chanyeol into a cross-legged position. He started playing with the grass in front of him self-consciously. Chanyeol could barely make out the flush on his cheeks.

“Sorry, sorry, it’s stupid. I was just thinking...it’s just convenient, because we’re both here...”

If Chanyeol didn’t say anything _right now_ he would ruin everything.

“I want to!” he almost yelled. He scrambled to sit up. He tried to lower his voice to a more appropriate volume but ended up overcompensating, almost whispering: “I want to kiss.”    

Kyungsoo looked surprised, and Chanyeol couldn’t believe this was happening to him. All the anticipation and excitement made it hard for him to think, but he knew that he didn’t want to mess this up. He had never kissed anybody before. His solution was to stay completely still and let Kyungsoo come to him.

Kyungsoo cupped Chanyeol’s face gently. The softness of the gesture contrasted the way Chanyeol’s heart was beating out of his fucking chest. Chanyeol’s eyes fell shut just as he felt the lightest brush of lips against his own, and then Kyungsoo was leaning in and kissing him for real—slow, achingly slow, but instantly good, with a tug in Chanyeol’s gut. Kyungsoo kissed him with an open mouth. He gently sucked Chanyeol’s bottom lip and Chanyeol’s head clouded with lust. He breathed hot against Kyungsoo’s mouth, trying to keep up. He reached for Kyungsoo’s hips and held tight, surprising a muffled noise out of Kyungsoo that had Chanyeol humming into the slide of the kiss.

When Kyungsoo pulled away and Chanyeol opened his eyes he could see the way Kyungsoo was flushed all down his neck. Chanyeol swallowed.

“Prom night...first kiss,” Chanyeol said quietly. He couldn’t take his eyes off the way Kyungsoo’s lips shone with spit. _Chanyeol’s_ spit. He expected Kyungsoo to give him the usual fondly exasperated look for being cheesy, but Kyungsoo was laughing.

“Let’s do this again.”

 

**

 

Neither of the two said it, but Chanyeol could feel it. The next time they were together after having kissed, the air was charged with anticipation, and with one question echoing in Chanyeol’s mind: “When?”

He had been wondering when the _best_ time to do it could be. And where exactly was the prime kissing location? Should he try to make it romantic, like a kiss in the rain or something? But the sun was high in the cloudless sky as they walked towards Chanyeol’s house. If kissing in the rain was out, should he at least offer to buy dinner for Kyungsoo? But when he had suggested earlier that he pay for Kyungsoo’s chocolate bar at the convenience store Kyungsoo had declined. Chanyeol felt his palms sweating all the way home as he bounced kissing ideas back and forth in his head.

Their plan for the day included putting off studying for their finals by playing video games in Chanyeol’s basement. And, well, now that Chanyeol thought about it, his basement seemed like a good enough place for kissing. There was very little romance about the musty, wood-panelled room, but it was pretty private.

Kyungsoo kicked off his shoes at the front door and headed downstairs without waiting for Chanyeol. He had spent so much of their friendship in Chanyeol’s house that he could probably find his way around perfectly well in the pitch dark. He was as comfortable there as he was at home, just like Chanyeol felt in Kyungsoo’s house—unless his parents were home, and then he was on his best and most charming behaviour.

“What are we playing first?” Kyungsoo asked when Chanyeol made his way down the stairs to join him.

“Do you want to make out?” Chanyeol blurted.

Kyungsoo didn’t even look surprised. Chanyeol wondered if it was because he had spent the entire day thinking about kissing as well. Kyungsoo laughed a little, almost sheepish, and then nodded.

“Yeah, okay.”

Kyungsoo didn’t make a move, so Chanyeol closed the distance between them by grabbing Kyungsoo’s hand and leading him to the old, sunken couch pushed against the wall. Kyungsoo reached behind him and pulled a worn throw pillow out from under himself, and Chanyeol laughed, mostly because he was excited and a little nervous.

He leaned towards Kyungsoo too quickly and bumped their noses together. Kyungsoo laughed and pulled away while Chanyeol blushed.

“Let me try that again,” Chanyeol said quickly. Kyungsoo nodded.

Chanyeol tilted his head and pressed his lips gently against Kyungsoo’s, who responded slow and gentle. That wasn’t the type of kiss Chanyeol was looking for, though; he pressed closer to Kyungsoo, boldly deepening the kiss. Maybe he got off to a rocky start, but now he felt pretty good. No, he felt great. God, he must have been the best kisser in the world.

Kyungsoo pulled away from the kiss and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.

“A little too much tongue, not enough…lips,” he said.

Well, at least Chanyeol made up in confidence what he lacked in technique.

“Sorry, sorry,” he rushed to say. “Let me try again.”

“Okay, but this is the last try,” Kyungsoo joked. His smile was warm and it sparked a similar warmth in Chanyeol’s chest.

He got it right on the third try. He held back from immediately using his tongue and instead focused on the slow, burning kisses that Kyungsoo offered. Chanyeol didn’t venture into French-kiss-territory until Kyungsoo gently licked at his top lip, and then Chanyeol felt like he was given the go-ahead. He followed Kyungsoo’s lead and licked cautiously into Kyungsoo’s mouth. When their tongues touched he felt a heat in his gut. It smoldered pleasantly when Kyungsoo pulled at Chanyeol’s shirt, tugging him closer.

Kyungsoo broke their kiss and swallowed heavily. He blinked slowly. His blush coloured high on his cheeks. He looked away for a moment, and Chanyeol thought he was looking for the right words for whatever it was he was thinking, but instead of speaking Kyungsoo moved to straddle Chanyeol’s legs and drop into his lap.

“ _Oh,_ ” Chanyeol breathed, and then Kyungsoo was kissing him again.

 _This_ was the kind of kiss Chanyeol had been looking for. Kyungsoo kissed him with a purpose, pressing their tongues together and working his fingers into Chanyeol’s long hair. Chanyeol’s breath came out ragged and hot. Kyungsoo paused to pull his hoodie off and throw it to the floor, and Chanyeol saw sweat shine on his temples. When Chanyeol held Kyungsoo by his waist or his thighs he felt how _small_ Kyungsoo was.

Chanyeol had already lost track of time when Kyungsoo pulled away. Kyungsoo’s flush had crept down his neck and disappeared beneath his T-shirt.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

Chanyeol laughed, breathless.

“Thank _you_.”

 

**

 

Kissing Kyungsoo was a mix of jumbled, hazy feelings and sensations. The two of them simply did what felt good and right in the moment—but Chanyeol was careful to stick to kissing, nothing else. He didn’t know what Kyungsoo was thinking. He never knew. They didn’t talk about it. They spent more time making out than they did talking, actually, which would have been fine with Chanyeol if he could get over one thing.

“Just convenient” is what Kyungsoo had called it back in the diamond, before their first kiss. Kyungsoo was only kissing him because he was _there_ , because they were both single. What would happen when Kyungsoo found someone else to kiss? This thought rolled around Chanyeol’s head in between kissing sessions and sometimes during them. What would happen…?

They would stop kissing. Kyungsoo would stop needing him.

 

**

 

**Graduation, 1997**

The only reason Kyungsoo went to his graduation ceremony was so that his parents (and Chanyeol’s parents) could get photos of him in a cap and gown. He didn’t really “do” ceremonies. He didn’t “do” a lot of things that Chanyeol used to think of as essential high school experiences—he wasn’t even in the school band despite his skill on clarinet. Chanyeol, on the other hand, was in the school band (practice every Wednesday morning at 7:30), had dabbled in the art club, and had been on the tennis team in sophomore and junior years.

Kyungsoo _was_ in the school plays, however. The school put on a large-scale production every year. Chanyeol loved to watch Kyungsoo acting on the school’s big stage, its heavy velvet curtains giving the whole thing an air of authenticity. He acted in musicals, too, as long as his part didn’t involve dancing. The musical that the school put on the past year was written by the students and had impressed Chanyeol. The best parts, though, were Kyungsoo’s solos. Chanyeol wondered if the entire auditorium felt shivers down their spine when Kyungsoo sang. Maybe that was only him.

The graduation ceremony was too slow and too hot, as Kyungsoo complained multiple times, but Chanyeol still felt like he was buzzing when he got up on the stage and the audience applauded him. When he and Kyungsoo’s parents pushed the two of them together for photos Chanyeol slung an arm around Kyungsoo and smiled so much it almost hurt. Kyungsoo started laughing at Chanyeol’s enthusiasm. The pictures turned out great: Chanyeol looking over at Kyungsoo with a toothy smile while Kyungsoo’s own smile turned his eyes to crescents. Chanyeol wished he could have kissed Kyungsoo then.

Chanyeol decided he would start scrapbooking after all. He got his favourite picture of the bunch developed and stored it in a box to which he stuck a note that read “Secret project—Kyungsoo, don’t touch. I mean it!”

 

**

 

**July, 1997**

Chanyeol breezed through his exams. Kyungsoo did well on the ones he could muster the motivation to properly prepare for. Chanyeol did his best to host study sessions for the two of them to keep them both on track, but somehow, they devolved into makeout sessions before long. Regardless, they both kept their averages high enough to keep their acceptances and, on Chanyeol’s part, earn an impressive scholarship.

Freedom was finally theirs. The summer stretched out in front of them and Chanyeol was equal parts excited and nervous—not just about starting university, although that was nerve-wracking in its own way, but also about Kyungsoo. About the kissing, and the feelings.

Yoora was also back for the summer now, having returned from an extended stay with a friend, and Chanyeol was back to hanging out with his big sister (which is to say, playfully badgering her). She even indulged Chanyeol in kid’s games in their pool. She was notoriously competitive when Chanyeol was “it” for marco polo.

“You’re looking very...solemn,” Yoora said to Kyungsoo from her comfortable position in one of their poolside lounge chairs. She was referring to the all-black clothes and the eyeliner that he wore even as he sat at the edge of the pool, kicking his feet in the chlorinated water. Kyungsoo shrugged.

“He’s goth now,” Chanyeol chimed in, floating on his back in the deep end.

“You don’t _call yourself_ goth,” Kyungsoo said. “It isn’t—”

“It isn’t goth to label yourself, I know,” Chanyeol said with a teasing smile. “It’s still cool, though. Don’t you think, Yoora?”

“Yeah,” Yoora replied. “The girls at my school would love you.”

Chanyeol’s smile fell. He took in a deep breath and dove suddenly in a weak attempt to touch the bottom of the pool and a weaker attempt to avoid the conversation. When he surfaced he was pleasantly surprised to find Yoora and Kyungsoo talking about the courses Yoora had taken in the past year. Chanyeol didn’t want to think about all the people that Kyungsoo could meet in two months when they started classes.

There was a sudden and distinct rumbling in the distance; Chanyeol shielded his eyes from the sun that was directly above them to look at the storm clouds that were rolling in from the east. His mom called out from the kitchen window that a thunderstorm was in the forecast so they better get out of the pool. Yoora shrugged and headed up to her room.

It didn’t take long for the sky to become so dark it could’ve been featured on the cover of one of Kyungsoo’s goth albums. Luckily, Kyungsoo and Chanyeol were safe inside Chanyeol’s covered porch. The large screened windows let in the crisp smell and sound of the rain. Thunder cracked and lightning illuminated the sky for moments at a time; it was beautiful in its violence. The two boys watched nature split the sky, but it was peaceful where they sat on a white wicker couch, dry and warm after changing out of bathing suits.

Kyungsoo shifted, tucking his legs underneath him and leaning to his right until his head hit Chanyeol’s shoulder with a soft bump. He breathed the damp air in deep. Chanyeol glanced down at Kyungsoo to see his eyes closed, just listening to the storm.

“This is so nice,” Kyungsoo said softly. Chanyeol hummed. He loved the tone of Kyungsoo’s voice when he spoke quietly like this.

“When everything is so bright green after the rain...” Chanyeol began, and then paused briefly before continuing.  “It’s like a gift for the plants. They must be so happy.”

Kyungsoo turned his head and buried his nose in Chanyeol’s t-shirt, smiling. Chanyeol smiled too.

“Are you laughing at me?” he asked, but Kyungsoo shook his head no into Chanyeol’s shoulder.

“It was sweet,” he said.

Chanyeol thought he might have blushed. He moved to wrap an arm around Kyungsoo, to pull him closer, and Kyungsoo breathed against his chest evenly.

“You’re the best friend I could ask for,” Kyungsoo said.

Chanyeol felt the strangest mix of feelings in his chest, all fighting for space. _Friend. Best friend._ How did Kyungsoo mean it? Did he feel the same way about the word that Chanyeol did—that it could mean so much more, and hold so many memories, so much potential? Or was he reminding Chanyeol that whatever intimacy they shared, they were still only friends, not more?

Chanyeol worried his bottom lip for a moment before responding: “You, too.”

 

**

 

Sometimes Kyungsoo would kiss Chanyeol open-mouthed and breathless, hot enough to have them both sweaty by the end. Less often he would kiss Chanyeol sweetly, pecks on the lips that stood in for goodbyes. These kisses made affection build up in Chanyeol’s chest until he wasn’t sure he could hold it in anymore. Every kiss seemed to make Chanyeol’s life better and more unbearable at the same time.

It was the most natural thing in the world to love Kyungsoo. Chanyeol had been doing it for over half of his life. He didn’t like having to _hide_ it from Kyungsoo. Chanyeol wanted him to feel all the love that he was capable of doling out (which was to say, a lot).

He wanted to tell Yoora, too, but he didn’t know how to describe the situation, and he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to. On the one hand, telling Yoora about it would mean that he could get a second opinion on what to do. On the other hand, he and Kyungsoo’s—well, whatever it was they were doing—felt like it was meant to be just between the two of them.

Chanyeol took his opportunity to ease into the conversation one night when Yoora was watching the evening news sitting cross-legged on the living room couch. Chanyeol dropped into the seat beside her.

“How’s your boyfriend?” he asked as casually as he could muster.

“Last I checked he was dating someone from his English class.”

“Oh...sorry, I didn’t know you broke up.”

“That’s okay,” Yoora said with a shrug. “We didn’t have very much in common.” Her calm expression turned into a teasing smile as she playfully elbowed Chanyeol’s side. “What about you? Dating anybody?”

Hook, line, and sinker. Even though he had set himself up for the question Chanyeol still blushed.  

“I’m...not dating anyone,” he said.

“Hm. It sounds like there’s more to that story.”

Chanyeol knew Yoora wouldn’t badger him about his relationship status if he asked her not to. It would have been easy to ask. But he really wanted to _tell someone_ what he was feeling, and if it wasn’t going to be Kyungsoo, at least Yoora wouldn’t judge him.

“Okay, you’re right. There’s—a thing.”

“A thing?”

“I kissed Kyungsoo.”

“Really?”

Yoora‘s face didn’t give away too much, surprised or otherwise. Chanyeol, for his part, felt an instant relief. It was almost worth it to have suffered in silence so long just to feel the relief of telling another person—but no, of course it wasn’t. He took a deep breath.

“Yeah. More than once.”

“Hey, that’s great,” Yoora said with a smile. She put a hand on Chanyeol’s shoulder. Chanyeol leaned into the touch, grateful that his sister knew how to make him feel at ease.

“It’s just...we kissed—I mean, we’re kissing—but I don’t know how he feels about it. I really like him. I don’t think he feels the same way.”

“Have you thought about asking him?”

“Of course I’ve thought about it,” Chanyeol said, dropping his head onto Yoora’s shoulder. “Imagine how bad I’d fuck everything up if he wasn’t into me. He’s my _best friend_. I don’t want to lose him.”

“Well,” Yoora said delicately, moving her hand to Chanyeol’s head and messing up his hair (Chanyeol whined; he hated that). “If you want my advice, I think you should ask him. I know it’s scary. But there’s something about you two—you always gravitate towards each other. It’s like you share your space. I don’t know, I just think it’s worth a shot.”

Chanyeol sighed. He was satisfied that someone other than himself thought that he and Kyungsoo suited each other. Still, he wasn’t confident enough about Kyungsoo’s feelings to act. Even though he had gotten the advice he wanted it didn’t seem to make much of a difference. He was still glad to have told Yoora, though; it eased the weight on his shoulders a bit knowing he wasn’t the only one carrying all his feelings.       

 

**

 

Chanyeol was home alone for the first time in a while. Both of his parents were at the restaurant and Yoora was at a friend’s house for the day. A beam of midday sun streamed through Chanyeol’s bedroom window, the heat was just this side of unbearable, and Chanyeol had decided he was going to try to finger himself.

He had already stripped down and was sitting on his bed with a wriggling feeling in his stomach. He really didn’t know what he was doing—but it couldn’t be _that_ hard, right? All he had to do was take his time.

He spread his legs, took a breath, and circled his hole with his index finger. The drag against sensitive skin sent jolts through his body. He pushed with just a bit of pressure before letting up, and he realized he was going to need something to help the slide of his finger.

He was thankful, again, that nobody was home. He slipped his boxer-briefs back on and dashed down to the kitchen to grab a bottle of olive oil. _I can’t believe I’m doing this,_ he thought while taking the stairs two at a time. Shutting himself in his room, he stripped naked again.  His heart was already beating fast while he set himself on comfortably on the bed, adjusting pillows to sit against and spreading his legs as wide as he could. He slicked his middle and index fingers liberally with oil and slowly brought his hand between his legs.

He pushed against his hole with the smallest bit of pressure again before letting up, and this time he felt more confident. When he pushed with the pad of his finger he felt the muscle yield, accommodating the tip of his finger, up to his first knuckle. His breathy moan was almost involuntary.

He pulled out and pushed back in as deep as the first knuckle. The slide of the oil was so _good,_ and the stimulation of his rim sparked little thrills through his nerves; he pushed deeper, up to his second knuckle, and then out. He started up a slow pace of shallow thrusts in and out, making breathy little noises with each thrust. His cock was hard against his stomach.

The pace he kept built up something indescribable on the edge of his consciousness, pulling him closer to a deeper pleasure than he was used to. With his eyes closed he imagined it was Kyungsoo’s finger that was thrusting into him and Kyungsoo’s light touch trailing up his thigh, up his stomach. He remembered the way Kyungsoo’s lips felt against his own. The way Kyungsoo sometimes squeezed Chanyeol’s thigh when he kissed him. How he would catch Chanyeol’s bottom lip between his teeth, oh _god._

Chanyeol could feel heat flushing his entire body and he felt compelled to hide his face in his pillow even though nobody was there to see his blush. Sweat clung to his temples and the nape of his neck and made his hair fall limply into his face. He wondered if Kyungsoo would lick the sweat from his neck; he ran his thumb along the path he imagined Kyungsoo’s tongue taking, down his neck and chest to his nipple. His breathy moan was muffled by his pillow.

He rocked his hips down in time with his thrusts to get deeper, satisfied when he felt the stretch of the thickest part of his middle finger and the way he clenched around it. He _whined_.

His free hand moved to jerk his cock in time with his thrusts. He was breathing heavy, cheeks burning, only thinking about the intense pleasure and about Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo’s lips, Kyungsoo’s hands, Kyungsoo’s thighs.

Chanyeol came shaking. He didn’t stop shaking for fifteen minutes afterwards.

 

**

 

Kyungsoo climbed out of his mother’s minivan, his sneakers hitting the pavement, and waved to Chanyeol.

“Let me just dump this stuff in your room and then we can go,” Kyungsoo said, gesturing to his backpack and the pillow under his arm. Sleepover supplies. Chanyeol nodded.

Their summer routine of walking from Chanyeol’s house to the nearby convenience store to buy snacks, hanging out in the baseball field, and making their way back home when the sun started to fall was in full swing. They were lucky enough to find the diamond empty when they approached the chain-link fence that separated the field from the quiet suburban street it backed onto. The two of them sat in the outfield among the scorched patches of grass.

Eight o’clock golden sunlight even made the old, run-down baseball cage and the gloomy dugout look beautiful. Maybe that was just Chanyeol’s perspective; the colourful flowers of the weeds in the outfield must’ve looked ugly to whoever was the groundskeeper at this diamond, but they were still pretty to Chanyeol.

“You know what I’m thinking?” Kyungsoo asked. Chanyeol shook his head no.

“They never put the fucking tetherballs on the poles at school. When they put the poles in...what was that, sixth grade? We were all excited because everyone played tetherball in cartoons, even though we didn’t know how to play. But they put the poles up and never tied the tetherballs to the poles because it ‘wasn’t safe’.”

Chanyeol snorted.

“I was thinking about how nice the sun makes everything look at this hour.”

Kyungsoo laughed too, then.

“That’s because you’re an artist.”

“I’m not an artist, I just took art class.”

“Well, you’ve got an artist’s eye.”

“Hey,” Chanyeol said suddenly, “remember in fourth grade when Jake almost cut his finger off during art class?”

“Yeah, how does that even happen? Didn’t we have safety scissors?”

“I think by fourth grade they were giving us big kid scissors, Kyungsoo. Oh my god, do you remember that time on the playground when Johnny hit his chin on the monkey bars and bit through the tip of his tongue?”

“Fuck, I forgot about that.”

“That was fifth grade, right? Mrs. Prendergast had to call his mom.”

“Hey, remember that time you ripped your pants during recess and had to tie your jacket around your waist for the rest of the day?”

“Shut up,” Chanyeol said while Kyungsoo laughed to himself.

Chanyeol didn’t have to dig too deep for Kyungsoo’s embarrassing phase (for example, the four years he spent wearing braces with corrective springs to realign his jaw). He decided it wasn’t worth it, though. He leaned back and supported himself on his elbows.

“Do you ever want to go back to being that old?” he asked. Kyungsoo smiled.

“Fuck no. Do you?”

“I don’t know,” Chanyeol said. He plucked some grass from a green patch to his left and started piling it on Kyungsoo’s knee. He was glad when Kyungsoo didn’t shake it off right away. “Sometimes it would be nice...to be young enough not to worry about stuff.”

“I don’t know about you, but I can remember worrying about stuff when I was that age. It was just stupid stuff. I mean, I think that now, but at the time it was everything. I guess that’s how I’ll feel in a few years about the things I worry about now.”

The pile of grass on Kyungsoo’s knee had gotten tall enough that any new additions would slide right off. Chanyeol tried to meet Kyungsoo’s eyes but he was skillfully avoiding Chanyeol’s gaze. He wondered what Kyungsoo was worried about; could it have anything to do with him? He was too nervous to ask in case he got an answer that was more than he bargained for.

The sun was about to disappear on the horizon and it was still humid enough that Chanyeol’s skin felt sticky. He pointed out a couple of fireflies that were lingering nearby to Kyungsoo.

“What kind of stuff do you think fireflies think about?” Chanyeol asked.

“Probably just about eating and mating, right? Wait...what do fireflies eat?”

“Beats me. Do fireflies sleep?”

“They’ve got to. Right?”

Chanyeol shrugged.

“We should probably get back,” he said. “Mom won’t want us to stay out too late.”

The rest of their night was spent listening to a couple new albums that Kyungsoo had bought recently (since Chanyeol had the better sound system) and watching a horror movie that Chanyeol definitely specifically rented so he could hide his face against Kyungsoo. Chanyeol spent the entire hour and thirty minutes wondering if Kyungsoo would hold his hand, but never got the nerve to sneak his own hand across the couch.

They were off to bed shortly after one in the morning. Kyungsoo and Chanyeol had been sharing a bed at sleepovers for as long as they could remember. Sleepovers since they had started kissing, however, had become unrestrained, teeth-clashing makeout sessions that left them both gasping once the lights were out.

Still, Chanyeol had never before slipped under the covers knowing he had gotten off to thoughts of Kyungsoo in the very spot that they were sleeping. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. Not since he watched Kyungsoo climb quietly into his bed wearing just a t-shirt and underwear to escape the heat. Chanyeol flicked off the light and found himself feeling somehow safer in the dark, like he was allowed to do things without the same daytime repercussions. When Kyungsoo reached out across the bed for Chanyeol’s waist and pressed their lips together Chanyeol was already hard.    

Kyungsoo didn’t seem to mind. He pushed closer, crowding Chanyeol, slinging a leg over one of Chanyeol’s while he kissed him. Chanyeol’s hands found Kyungsoo’s waist and his fingers slipped past the hem of his shirt to touch warm skin. Chanyeol felt too hot; they had already kicked the blanket down to the foot of the bed. He wouldn’t have wanted to stop for anything in the world. When Kyungsoo pulled away for a moment Chanyeol chased his lips.

“Hey,” Kyungsoo whispered, and then paused. Chanyeol couldn’t see his expression in the dark, but that made his words seem to land heavier.

“Yeah,” Chanyeol said back. “Hey.”

“Can I—uh.”

“Mmm,” Chanyeol hummed. He kissed lightly along Kyungsoo’s jaw.

“Can I grind on you?”

Kyungsoo spoke so quietly and self-consciously that Chanyeol never would have heard him if he wasn’t pressed so close to his lips.

“ _Yes_ ,” Chanyeol responded immediately.

Kyungsoo took a shaky breath and repositioned himself with shaky arms.

“Let me, um—”

He gently pushed Chanyeol’s shoulder down against the mattress to leave him supine, and then straddled his waist. Chanyeol swallowed loudly.

“Is this okay?”

“Yeah, yes, definitely.”

Then Kyungsoo grinded his hips down, and Chanyeol felt like his skin was on fire. He did his best to muffle any of the low noises that threatened to slip from his lips. It helped that Kyungsoo was still kissing him, their tongues sliding together. It was too dark to see what he was doing but it didn’t matter; it only made Kyungsoo’s breath on his face feel hotter. Better, closer, more immediate. Chanyeol scrambled to grab onto Kyungsoo’s boxers for purchase as he thrusted up against him. The friction sent little waves of pleasure up Chanyeol’s spine. It seemed like Kyungsoo was holding his breath at times as he rolled his hips in a sloppy rhythm, and he would curse quietly with some exhales.

It became too much way too quickly.

“I can’t,” Chanyeol choked out even while he continued to meet Kyungsoo’s thrusts. “We gotta stop or I’ll just—I’m too—I’m gonna come if you don’t stop.”

“Fuck,” Kyungsoo muttered. He clambered off of Chanyeol and collapsed beside him instead, chest heaving.

“Sorry,” Chanyeol said quickly, but Kyungsoo shook his head.

“No, it’s fine. Me too.”

Kyungsoo was such a comfortable presence beside Chanyeol, even if he was trembling, and this sexual tension was going to drive Chanyeol crazy. But it was _more_ than that, more than the heat that Kyungsoo brought to Chanyeol’s cheeks and his gut. It was also the gentle warmth of Kyungsoo when he slept beside him and the way he reached for Chanyeol when he stirred awake. It was the glowing warmth he felt in his heart when Kyungsoo smiled, even when it wasn’t directed at him.

Chanyeol scooted closer to Kyungsoo until he could rest his head on his chest. Kyungsoo began to run his fingers through Chanyeol’s sweaty hair, combing it out of his face. Chanyeol took a shaky breath. This was going to kill him.

 

**

 

Chanyeol was hunched over his desk listening carefully to Kyungsoo’s newest mixtape; a very Kyungsoo mix of the Cure, Sisters of Mercy, and Siouxsie and the Banshees. He had handed the tape to Chanyeol on his way out the door, just as his mother’s car pulled into Chanyeol’s driveway to pick him up from their sleepover.

Kyungsoo had scrawled the tracklist on the back of a doodle he had done of Chanyeol with his oversized headphones plugged into his boombox. “Wow,” the speech bubble Kyungsoo had given him read, “Kyungsoo is the best.” Chanyeol tucked the drawing into his scrapbooking box.

This was far from a casual listen for Chanyeol, though. He had listened to one song off the mix three times in a row, clicking down the heavy rewind button on his boombox each time and trying to write out the lyrics to what Kyungsoo’s tracklist labelled as “Prove My Love” by the Violent Femmes. By the third listen Chanyeol had successfully scrawled all of the lyrics he could catch. He looked down at the sheet of lined paper he tore from his binder.

_You’d be so good, so very good for me / What do you think? Tell me honestly_

Even though the other songs were innocuous enough (being, like most goth music, about death) this one had his brain whirring. Why would Kyungsoo include such an upbeat song on this otherwise dark mix? Was it supposed to be a message to Chanyeol? _I’m dropping hints_ , the singer whined. _What do I have to do to prove my love to you?_

Chanyeol’s head dropped heavily onto his desk.

“This is hopeless,” he said out loud to his empty bedroom. He and Kyungsoo had just dry-humped until he had almost come in his pants, and here he was analyzing the lyrics of some stupid song to glean the slightest idea of how Kyungsoo felt about him.

If he told Kyungsoo how he felt it would mean any of several things: that he could stop scrutinizing everything Kyungsoo said or did while looking for a sign of his feelings; that he could stop scrutinizing everything he _himself_ did in an effort to keep his _own_ feelings hidden; that he could get everything off his chest and feel like he could breathe again; that Kyungsoo would say he felt the same way, and they would live happily ever after; or that Kyungsoo would say that he didn’t feel that way at all.

The latter overwhelmed all the other possible outcomes in Chanyeol’s mind. There was just no way he could do it. He couldn’t ruin the most important relationship in his life. What he _could_ do was wait to see if Kyungsoo gave himself away first.

The waiting sure sucked, though.

 

**

 

Chanyeol couldn’t count how many times they’d done this now. The more heated kisses were easy for Chanyeol to lose himself in, to think when he was trying to will down his erection that _this is just what bodies do._ He couldn’t deny, however, the way affection clogged the pipes of his heart when Kyungsoo was gentle with him. He would always initiate his kisses so slowly, so tenderly. He kissed Chanyeol like he could do it for hours.

All Chanyeol’s mixed up feelings weighed on him hardest when he was alone. The kissing, the affection—Kyungsoo had always been touchy in his own way, with reassuring hands on Chanyeol’s back and shoulder, patting his head or combing through his hair. But was Kyungsoo being _more_ touchy now? Was it just a natural part of becoming more intimate? Did it even mean anything?

The dialogue in Chanyeol’s head kept up constantly. Part of him argued that since Kyungsoo was letting Chanyeol kiss him, since he clearly _wanted_ Chanyeol to kiss him, that that was enough. Another part of him insisted that the entire thing was just physical to Kyungsoo, that he didn’t feel _that way_ about it or about Chanyeol. _Don’t get too attached,_ this part of Chanyeol said. _Don’t get your hopes up. Don’t fall in love with him._

Chanyeol had realized by now that he was in love with Kyungsoo before they had ever kissed.

He and Kyungsoo weren’t even kissing this time. They were lying comfortably on Chanyeol’s bed, talking lazily. The atmosphere didn’t reflect Chanyeol’s speeding thoughts, but when Kyungsoo stretched his arm to rest his hand comfortably on Chanyeol’s thigh, Chanyeol thought that he could learn to live with this if Kyungsoo would never stop acting like he loved Chanyeol.

 _Even if he doesn’t,_ Chanyeol’s mind provided.

“I want to tell you something,” Kyungsoo said suddenly. He turned his head to look at Chanyeol, his gaze searching. Chanyeol felt a fear grip his chest.

“Sure, anything,” he said.

“I think I’m gay.”

There was a comfort in his saying it. There was always a sort of comfort in Kyungsoo’s perception of himself—it was interacting with others that got him anxious. Chanyeol was never included in that category, though. Kyungsoo always seemed to feel comfortable around him.

Chanyeol wasn’t surprised, really. His racing thoughts weren’t stalled at all either. The thought that Kyungsoo was only kissing him because he had no girl to kiss was just modified to change the gender of the target, this enigma that Chanyeol knew Kyungsoo _wanted_ to kiss, but couldn’t, and so he settled for Chanyeol.

"Yeah?" Chanyeol asked.

"Yeah."

Kyungsoo blinked. He propped himself up on his forearms and leaned in slowly to cup Chanyeol’s face and run his thumb over Chanyeol’s bottom lip. He kissed Chanyeol deep and slow. Chanyeol gasped into Kyungsoo’s mouth; he had started shaking just a bit. Did Kyungsoo notice? He pulled away and looked intently into Chanyeol’s eyes.

“If you’re...I mean, if you’re uncomfortable with it now, since I said I’m gay. If that makes this different—”

“No, no, that’s cool,” Chanyeol rushed to say.

Kyungsoo smiled. He leaned in to kiss both of Chanyeol’s eyelids feather-soft. But Chanyeol hesitated. He pulled away just a bit—this was _too_ intimate. He was getting _too_ used to the feeling of being loved. He couldn’t let that happen when Kyungsoo was just going to leave.                                                                                                                                        

“I’m—” Chanyeol started, trying to fathom how to put his feelings into words without sounding desperate.

“I mean, I’m...I’m gay, too, I think.”

That wasn’t what he had meant to say, but it was true. Kyungsoo smiled a brilliant smile that Chanyeol felt like he didn’t deserve. When Kyungsoo leaned in again Chanyeol was still pulling away. Kyungsoo’s smile fell so suddenly it could’ve given Chanyeol whiplash.

“What’s wrong?” Kyungsoo asked.

“Nothing,” Chanyeol insisted, but it sounded empty to his own ears.

“Okay...” Kyungsoo said, clearly not convinced, and when he reached for Chanyeol’s arm to offer a reassuring touch Chanyeol was still not responding correctly. He couldn’t. Kyungsoo looked concerned now.

“Um,” he said quietly, nervously. “We can still stop if you want. I mean, we can stop all of it.”

“What?” Chanyeol asked. His brows furrowed, distress obvious on his face.

“If you don’t want to kiss me we can stop.”

“I—why would you think I don’t want to kiss you?”

Kyungsoo looked confused. When he replied his tone rose at the end as if it were a question:

“Because you never wanted to?”

“Of course I did!”

“Well, yeah, you wanted to _kiss,_ but you didn’t want to kiss _me_.”

Chanyeol was a mess of flailing limbs, as if his emotions were too big to keep pent up.

“What are you saying! I’ve wanted to kiss you for ages! It’s all I could think about for months, it still is!”

He really couldn’t help the tears that welled up in his eyes. He felt as if he were stepping into a strong undertow, the way he couldn’t stop the pull to tell Kyungsoo everything, even after all this time and all this effort to do exactly the opposite. He couldn’t break free from this _need_ that was like a force of nature in itself.

So he gave in.

“Kyungsoo, I love you, please,” he said through the tears that were falling fast now. His breathing came out ragged. They way he struggled for breaths scared him.

“You do?” Kyungsoo asked, and Chanyeol had to hide his face. He looked away and brought his hands to cover his eyes so Kyungsoo wouldn’t see his tears, but Kyungsoo pulled his hands away and held them tight in his own. Chanyeol ducked his head.

“It’s...you mean, romantically?” Kyungsoo asked gently, and since there was no backing down, Chanyeol nodded.

“Please look at me.”

It took a long time for Chanyeol’s breath to even out enough that he felt confident he could keep his gaze steady. When he finally turned, Kyungsoo smiled through his own tears.

“I’m in love with you, too.”

Chanyeol collapsed into Kyungsoo’s chest. Kyungsoo cradled his head and rocked him back and forth a little. Chanyeol was ugly crying, with body-wracking sobs, can’t-get-enough-air crying, and it would’ve been mortifying if it didn’t feel so good to let it out.

“I thought,” Chanyeol choked out between sobs, “you just had nobody else to kiss.”

Chanyeol felt Kyungsoo’s laugh in his chest, warm and grounding and _right_.

“I thought the same thing about you,” Kyungsoo said.

When Chanyeol felt able to raise his head from Kyungsoo’s chest Kyungsoo reached to cradle his face. He gently tucked some strands of his auburn hair behind his ear.

“You’re my first choice to kiss.”

Chanyeol sniffled.

“Me too,” he said. “You always have been.”

Chanyeol had snot and tears running down his face, and Kyungsoo wiped at the mess with his hoodie sleeve. He even offered the sleeve to Chanyeol to blow his nose in.

“That’s gross,” Chanyeol said, and he laughed for what felt like the first time in a lifetime. Kyungsoo shrugged, and his answering smile was beautiful. He pulled Chanyeol close to him. Chanyeol tucked his chin against Kyungsoo’s neck and breathed in deep.

“You scared me so much,” Kyungsoo said softy. “I thought you wanted to stop seeing me or something.”

“ _You_ scared _me_ ,” Chanyeol replied.

“I’m so sorry you felt like that all this time...Chanyeol, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay now. Everything’s okay. You’ll...you’ll be my boyfriend now, right?” Chanyeol asked hesitantly. Kyungsoo snorted.

“I thought that was clear.”

“Just say it,” Chanyeol whined.

“Yes,” Kyungsoo said with a smile in his voice. “I’m your boyfriend.”

 

**

 

**August, 1997**

Chanyeol had imagined what it would be like to be Kyungsoo’s boyfriend; he had imagined it almost nonstop for months straight. He had never predicted it would be _quite_ so wonderful. To be dating his best friend, the person who he felt the most comfortable with, the one who knew him better than anyone—he must have been the luckiest boy in the world. Now that all his anxiety about navigating the border between friendship and more-than-friendship was gone it felt like he could melt into Kyungsoo. He could tell and show Kyungsoo just how much he meant to him.

“I have something for you,” Chanyeol said into the phone.

He was laying in his bed staring at the ceiling, twirling a strand of his hair around his finger, looking every bit the infatuated protagonist in a teen movie. He smiled when Kyungsoo’s tinny voice came through the phone.

“I have something for you, too.”

“Can you come over now? I don’t think I can wait until tomorrow.”

“Will your parents mind?”

Chanyeol glanced out his bedroom window at the night sky; it was already past ten. But summer freedom meant special privileges, like seeing your boyfriend on weeknights.

“It’ll be fine,” Chanyeol said.

“I’ll leave now.”

Fifteen minutes later Chanyeol found Kyungsoo knocking softly on the front door with his backpack slung over his shoulder.

“Hey,” Kyungsoo said quietly. “I didn’t know if I should throw rocks at your window. I thought this was the better plan.”

Chanyeol laughed as he grabbed Kyungsoo’s hand and led him to his bedroom.

“You should’ve thrown the rocks.”

“I will next time. I’ll throw the rocks, and I’ll sing you a song, and then I’ll climb the trellis up to your window.”

Kyungsoo was teasing him, but Chanyeol didn’t want to admit that he blushed at the thought of him singing outside of his window in the middle of the night. He stayed quiet while he led Kyungsoo into his bedroom and closed the door softly behind them.

“Okay,” Kyungsoo said. “You go first.”

Chanyeol turned away for a moment to pull his gift out from the box labelled “Secret Project”. Kyungsoo eyed the note on the box.

“So this is what you’ve been hiding,” he said.

“I know you might think it’s cheesy, but, you know, I thought...I just wanted to make this for you.”

Chanyeol handed the thick spiral-bound book to Kyungsoo. It was the product of over a month spent gathering materials, planning, and gluing down various bits of paper. Kyungsoo studied the front cover which exclaimed “KYUNGSOO AND CHANYEOL:  1985 - ∞” and his surprised expression melted into fondness.

“Chanyeol...”

“Just open it.”

The scrapbook documented their past year together. The pages were filled with memories: all of the notes Kyungsoo had left in Chanyeol’s locker; song titles in Kyungsoo and Chanyeol’s handwriting, carefully cut from the personalized liner notes in the mixtapes they swapped; Chanyeol’s drawings of Kyungsoo, torn out from his sketchbook; their graduation photo.

“I wanted you to remember our last year of high school together, even though it’s silly—”

Chanyeol was cut off by a fierce hug.

“This is the sweetest thing you’ve ever done,” Kyungsoo said against Chanyeol’s chest. “Thank you. I love it.”

When Kyungsoo pulled away he wiped at his eyes in an attempt at subtlety, but Chanyeol had already seen the tears stained black with eyeliner. Seeing Kyungsoo cry was a rare sight. To think that Chanyeol had moved him to tears—even Chanyeol was misty-eyed.

“Um,” Kyungsoo said with a sniff, shaking his head a little to compose himself. “I made this for you.”

He turned to pull a cassette case out of his backpack. It was a familiar sight, but Kyungsoo continued to explain as he handed the case to Chanyeol.

“It’s all songs that make me think of you, or us. It’s really sappy...but I know you like that.”

Chanyeol laughed through the tears that were forming in earnest. He opened the case and pulled out the folded piece of paper Kyungsoo had stuffed inside. Unfolding it, Chanyeol realized that it held a list of the songs on the tape, each with a highlighted lyric and a handwritten explanation as to why Kyungsoo had chosen the song.

_The Cure—Doing the Unstuck: “It’s a perfect day for making out / to wake up with a smile, without a doubt / to burst grin giggle bliss skip jump sing and shout / let’s get happy”_

_Kissing you always makes me feel like I’m on top of the world._

_The Violent Femmes—American Music: “I need a date to the prom / would you like to come along? / nobody would go to prom with me, baby”_

_I wanted to ask you to the prom, but I was too nervous. You know I can’t dance. I hope this counts for something._

_Spice Girls—Wannabe: “Make it last forever / friendship never ends”_

_You know I hate this song, but you don’t know that I love watching you sing along to it._

Chanyeol gathered Kyungsoo against his chest. He was doing a strange mix of laughing and crying that came out sounding like hiccupy sobs. Kyungsoo laughed and rubbed Chanyeol’s back.

“Thank you,” Chanyeol said through his tears. “It’s what I’ve always wanted.”

 

**

 

In the outfield of the baseball diamond Chanyeol had his head in Kyungsoo’s lap, eyes closed against the bright afternoon sky, and Kyungsoo was running his fingers through Chanyeol’s sun-warmed hair. He stretched cat-like and readjusted himself on Kyungsoo’s thighs. When he squinted his eyes Chanyeol caught Kyungsoo looking down at him with a smile as warm as the weather.

“I like you a lot, you know,” Kyungsoo said.

Chanyeol brought his hands to his face to hide his blush. His giggle might have given him away.

“I like you too, you dork.”

Chanyeol was happy to hear it, though. The months he spent second-guessing everything and wondering about Kyungsoo’s feelings left him in need of frequent touches and words of affirmation in order to make him feel secure. Kyungsoo seemed to be more than happy to provide, if the kisses he initiated were anything to go by. It was almost guaranteed that if the Cure was heard from Kyungsoo’s bedroom, he and Chanyeol were making out.

“Hey, look,” Kyungsoo said, suddenly animated. He picked a clover from the grass to his left and handed it to Chanyeol; it had four leaves.

“Woah, you’re so lucky,” Chanyeol said as he shaded his eyes to look at the fourth leaf. It was smaller than the other three, as if it were an afterthought when the clover had been growing. There was something beautiful about its difference.

“I am lucky,” Kyungsoo said. He smiled down at Chanyeol. “We’re both lucky, don’t you think?”

“I do, yeah.”

 

**

 

The sunny kitchen was one of Chanyeol’s favourite rooms in the house—although the basement was growing on him these days, but that was only because it was one of the places he and Kyungsoo would go to make out. Their kitchen was spacious and filled with natural light in the mornings streaming in from two large windows. He liked the way the thin, gauzy white curtains filtered the light into soft rays. His mother liked the kitchen as well; it was her preferred place to get work done.

She had interrupted Chanyeol’s summer breakfast routine (crawling out of bed at eleven and pouring himself a bowl of sugary cereal) to ask him a question.

“You’ll be taking Kyungsoo as your plus-one to your cousin Jaeyoung’s wedding, right?”

Chanyeol flushed. He had been taking Kyungsoo to every family event since they were little, and Kyungsoo had met Chanyeol’s entire extended family at this point. Kyungsoo had been to holiday dinners, family get-togethers, and tagged along for visits to grandparents’ houses. Chanyeol had never taken Kyungsoo anywhere as his _date_ , though.

“Yeah,” he said casually. His mother nodded. She didn’t suspect anything.

It was quiet for a while except for the sound of cereal filling Chanyeol’s bowl and the clacking of his mother’s fingers across the keyboard of her laptop. She was working on an paper for her degree in nursing. She usually spent the majority of her time at the restaurant she owned with Chanyeol’s father, but now it seemed like she spent all of her free time working on schoolwork while Chanyeol’s dad took over the restaurant work. Chanyeol couldn’t have been prouder of her, but he _did_ wonder if he’d be working that hard come September. It looked exhausting.

“Mom?”

“Hm?”

“About Kyungsoo?”

Chanyeol’s mother finished typing a sentence and looked up at him over her glasses.

“Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he’s fine.” It was typical for his parents to worry about Kyungsoo’s health as much as they did their own children’s. “I just wanted you to know...he and I, we—we’re dating.”

“Oh?”

Chanyeol held his breath for a moment while he waited for his mother’s reaction. When she cracked a smile he felt dizzy with relief. He hadn’t _planned_ to tell his mom this way, but she put the opportunity in front of him, and even though he had guessed she would be more than accommodating of the relationship Chanyeol still felt the back of his neck tingle from the nerves.

“That’s great, honey,” she said. “I already know you make each other happy.”

Chanyeol grinned his toothy grin.

“Thanks, mom,” he said, hoping she could feel the weight he put into the two words.

His mother left her seat at the kitchen table to make herself another cup of tea. After filling the electric kettle and flicking its switch she circled back to where Chanyeol was standing, munching on his cereal, and wrapped an arm around him, pressing him close to her side. He turned to rest his chin on the top of her head (leaning comically far to do so, considering their height difference).

“I’m so proud of you, Chanyeol.”

When he started crying his mother wrapped him in a tight hug.

 

**

 

The night entered Chanyeol’s room all dark blue and full of crickets’ chirping. The air smelled cool and damp through the open window. Every now and then they heard an approaching car, the headlights briefly lighting up the bedroom wall yellow before disappearing down the street.

Chanyeol was laying back on the bed with Kyungsoo straddling him, leaning down so their lips could touch. Chanyeol had his hands on Kyungsoo’s waist. He marvelled at how slight Kyungsoo was. His fingertips slipped under Kyungsoo’s shirt and gripped his hips. Kyungsoo giggled into their kiss because his sides were ticklish, which Chanyeol knew, of course. Chanyeol’s long hair fanned out around him on the pillow. They had been kissing for a long time.

“Do you want to have sex?” Chanyeol asked suddenly.

“Right now?”

“No. I mean, sure, just. In general. Do you want to have sex with me?”

Kyungsoo laughed quietly.

“I do, yeah.”

“Me too.”

“Okay.”

Kyungsoo’s kissing was significantly more intense after that. He bit at Chanyeol’s bottom lip and kissed sloppily along his jaw, stopping to leave a hickey right below the collar of Chanyeol’s shirt, and even bit at his earlobe. He grinded his hips down against Chanyeol at a practiced pace that had Chanyeol gasping.

Chanyeol was so turned on he could barely stand it. His head was swimming with it. He thrusted his hips up to meet Kyungsoo’s, but it wasn’t enough, especially not when Kyungsoo was grabbing his ass like that, even slipping his fingers past the waistband of Chanyeol’s underwear. He released a low, drawn out moan that made Kyungsoo curse under his breath. Chanyeol felt a tangible _need._

“Please finger me,” he spat out in a rush.

“Fuck,” Kyungsoo said quietly, “Okay. I’ve never done this. I just don’t want to hurt you. You’ve...by yourself?”

In the shallow moonlight Chanyeol could see the flush on Kyungsoo’s cheeks and down his neck, peeking out from the collar of his shirt.

“Yeah. It’s okay, I’ll show you. You won’t hurt me.”

Sometime in the past few weeks Chanyeol had deliberately gone to a convenience store twenty minutes away from their neighbourhood so nobody would possibly spot him buying condoms and lube. He was glad to have been prepared, but when he grabbed the bottle from his bedside table he became flustered and embarrassed. The full gravity of what was happening hit hm. He laughed and buried his face in his hands.

He felt a gentle kiss on his forehead. When he peeked between his fingers he saw Kyungsoo’s reassuring smile. Kyungsoo undressed then, a little self conscious, and Chanyeol watched carefully. He slowly moved to copy Kyungsoo by pulling his own t-shirt over his head, unbuttoning his shorts and pulling them down his legs. Kyungsoo watched intently while Chanyeol’s ears burned. His eyes flicked down to where the outline of Chanyeol’s cock was visible through his boxer-briefs.

“Can I take them off for you?” Kyungsoo asked.

“Yes, please.”

Chanyeol lifted his hips to let Kyungsoo slide his underwear down his hips. He raised his legs to help as much as he could, and the position he subsequently found himself in made him feel vulnerable and excited and _very_ ready for Kyungsoo to be inside him.

After Kyungsoo slipped his own underwear off Chanyeol held his arms open in invitation. Kyungsoo crawled on top of him, suspending his weight with his elbows on either side of Chanyeol, leaning down to kiss him.

“Give me your hand,” Chanyeol whispered. He fumbled for the lube and slicked Kyungsoo’s fingers, bringing them to his hole. “Slow until I tell you to speed up. One finger first. Here.”

He pressed Kyungsoo’s index finger against himself and encouraged Kyungsoo to push. His head fell back against the pillow when Kyungsoo, very gently, did as he was told.

“More, it’s good,” Chanyeol said quickly.

Kyungsoo pushed his index finger further slowly, carefully, and Chanyeol loved him for his care, but he needed more _now_. He sighed with relief when Kyungsoo pushed his finger in to his knuckle. Kyungsoo leaned in to kiss along Chanyeol’s neck.

“You look so pretty like this,” he whispered, and Chanyeol whined.

Even though Chanyeol could tell Kyungsoo was nervous there was some sort of confidence in his expression, his eyes intent, pupils dilated and cheeks flushed as he focused on where his finger disappeared into Chanyeol. He watched his finger slowly sliding almost all the way out and thrusting back in deep. Chanyeol grinded down on Kyungsoo’s finger eagerly. He couldn’t possibly stay quiet. Little noises escaped from the back of his throat.

It was different than when he fingered himself; he might have already known what he liked, but Kyungsoo could get deeper than Chanyeol could on his own and had better control. He could even get angles that Chanyeol had trouble with.

“Faster,” Chanyeol breathed out.

Kyungsoo followed the request. Chanyeol fought the urge to let his eyes fall closed so he could keep looking at Kyungsoo in the near-darkness, whose hair at his temples was dripping sweat by now. He was fully absorbed in his work.

“Can you...two fingers.”

“Yeah, hold on,” Kyungsoo said, reaching for the lube. He slowly, slowly pushed a second finger in. Chanyeol moaned at the familiar stretch.

“I want you to fuck me so bad,” he said, filterless from the pleasure (as if he didn’t usually say exactly what came to his mind), and Kyungsoo made a noise that Chanyeol wanted to hear over and over again.

“Me too,” he said.

With his free hand he ran his fingers feather-light down Chanyeol’s inner thigh, spreading his legs wider, and Chanyeol made a pitchy noise in the back of his throat.

“God,” Kyungsoo said, “you’re so fucking hot.”

Kyungsoo worked his way up to a third finger; the stretch didn’t hurt but it _was_ a little uncomfortable. Chanyeol took a deep breath and tried his best to relax his muscles, and the pressure started to feel good again after a while. Kyungsoo took his time. He was thorough.

When Chanyeol insisted he was ready for Kyungsoo to try, Kyungsoo pulled his fingers out and wiped them on a tissue from Chanyeol’s bedside table. Chanyeol whined softly about being left empty, his hole clenching around nothing.

“Hold on, hold on baby, I got you,” Kyungsoo said in a lower voice than usual. Chanyeol’s heart jumped.

Kyungsoo rolled on the condom, liberally applied lube, and lined himself up with Chanyeol. He pushed in tortuously slow. Chanyeol focused on his breathing. It felt strange. He tried to relax as much as he could while he stroked his cock slowly.

“Holy shit,” Kyunsoo whispered.

His arms were trembling a bit where they held his weight up on either side of Chanyeol’s torso. Chanyeol reached his free hand up to cup Kyungsoo’s cheek and pull him in for a kiss. Kyungsoo kissed sloppily, mostly just breathing against Chanyeol’s mouth, but it was so hot, and his frame was so small between Chanyeol’s legs, and he was so beautiful. Chanyeol had to keep reminding himself to breathe steady. He was overwhelmed, and Kyungsoo had to keep pausing, his hips stuttering.

“Sorry, sorry,” Kyungsoo choked out. “It’s just. I’m gonna come.”

The way Chanyeol’s laugh bubbled up from his chest surprised him.

“That’s okay,” he said, and he meant it in an all-encompassing way. It was okay to pause, it was okay to come early, everything was okay because Chanyeol was so happy and so fucking in love.

Kyungsoo did end up coming first, much sooner than he probably would’ve liked, but Chanyeol’s hand sped up on his cock until he was coming over himself soon after. Kyungsoo couldn’t hold his weight up anymore and collapsed _hard_ on Chanyeol’s chest.

“ _Oof._ ”

“Sorry,” Kyungsoo mumbled, but his face was smushed up against Chanyeol’s chest so it came out pretty unintelligible. Chanyeol laughed.

“Wait,” Kyungsoo said vaguely, pushing himself back up with great effort and slowly pulling out of Chanyeol, who winced.

Kyungsoo pulled the condom off of his soft cock and tossed it into the garbage pail that was tucked under Chanyeol’s bedside table. He scrambled to retrieve the blanket from the foot of the bed before collapsing on Chanyeol’s chest again, his effort used up.

“I love you,” Kyungsoo said softly. “I fucking love you.”

“I fucking love you too,” Chanyeol said with a smile.

“Sorry for—for finishing so soon, it’s embarrassing, I should’ve—”

“Hey, it’s okay. Really. Plus, we’ve got a lot of time to keep trying.”

Kyungsoo laughed against Chanyeol’s chest. His hand found Chanyeol’s scalp and he gently scratched it.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

 

**

 

“I don’t know if I can do this,” Kyungsoo said miserably. “I just...don’t want to embarrass myself, you know.”

“It isn’t a big deal, really.”

“But I _can’t dance_.”

Chanyeol would have laughed if Kyungsoo wasn’t so clearly upset about the whole thing. He had been unusually quiet when Chanyeol asked him to be his date to his cousin’s wedding, and Chanyeol thought at first that Kyungsoo was nervous about being seen as a couple around Chanyeol’s family. Which, to be fair, _was_ nerve-wracking. But it had turned out that Kyungsoo was only worried about having to slow dance.

“I can teach you.”

Kyungsoo worried his bottom lip, but after a moment he nodded, a determined expression on his face. Chanyeol pushed himself off of the basement couch and headed for the sound system. He rifled through his family’s alphabetized music collection until he landed on one he was sure Kyungsoo would appreciate. He popped the Violent Femmes’ self-titled into the CD player and skipped his way to the tenth track, “Good Feeling”, and turned to face Kyungsoo as the first bass chords sounded in the room.

“Come here.”

Kyungsoo did as he was told. He stood in front of Chanyeol, looking down at his feet self-consciously.

“Okay,” Chanyeol said. “Now hold my hand like this. And my waist, here. And just try...swaying.”

Chanyeol had come to think of his basement as quite the romantic place in the past year. The dim yellow lighting and the slow piano chords only heightened the sense that this moment was significant; when Kyungsoo said he didn’t dance, he really meant it. And yet here he was, actually dancing with Chanyeol. He followed Chanyeol’s lead and swayed slowly in time with the music.

“This is...nice,” he said quietly. Chanyeol smiled.

“See? Not too hard. You’re doing good. You can come closer, too.”

“Like this?”

Kyungsoo stepped towards Chanyeol until their chests were almost pressed together and looked up at him with his big, black-lined eyes.

“Yeah, like that,” Chanyeol said. “You’re beautiful.”

Kyungsoo looked at his feet while sporting a shy smile.

Two weeks later, Kyungsoo wore the same shy smile while he posed in his suit on the stairs next to Chanyeol. Chanyeol’s mother snapped pictures of the two of them. Even though they didn’t get to go to prom together, they still got their cliché photo shoot in their coordinated suits.

“Move a bit closer to Chanyeol, Kyungsoo,” his mother said, still looking through the camera’s viewfinder, making an accompanying hand signal. Kyungsoo stepped a foot to his left. His shoulder was touching Chanyeol’s arm now.

“Perfect.”

After she had gotten a sufficient amount of photos (which is to say, dozens) Chanyeol’s mother left the boys alone in search of Chanyeol’s father. Moving away from the stairs, Chanyeol turned to face Kyungsoo.

“How do I look?” he asked. He was well aware that he looked fantastic. Kyungsoo pretended to hem and haw while he looked Chanyeol up and down.

“You’re okay. Let me fix your collar.”

Kyungsoo reached around Chanyeol’s neck to adjust his shirt collar, making sure it was folded down. Chanyeol admired the thick eyelashes on Kyungsoo’s downcast eyes; Kyungsoo had skipped the eyeliner this evening and looked younger as a result. He was beautiful. Kyungsoo’s eyes flicked up to meet Chanyeol’s, and he smiled.

“Better,” he said.

“Yeah?”

Kyungsoo stood on his toes to place a kiss on Chanyeol’s cheek.

“Yeah. Very handsome.”

The wedding ceremony was about as interesting as any wedding ceremony could be, Chanyeol thought, but he and Kyungsoo both agreed that the following dinner was worth the wait. Kyungsoo had met half the people in attendance already at various family functions.

Kyungsoo was still hesitant to dance, especially to fast songs, but Chanyeol managed to loosen him up _just_ enough to get him onto the floor while Chanyeol moved to the beat.  

“Hey,” Kyungsoo yelled over the music at one point. “I’m gonna request a song,”

Half an hour later, when the DJ finally got through the rest of the requests, Chanyeol’s head whipped around to Kyungsoo when he heard the opening chords of the Smashing Pumpkins’ “Thirty-Three”. It was one of his favourite songs.

“Did you...?”

In lieu of a response to the question, Kyungsoo smiled and asked one of his own.

“May I have this dance?”

“You may,” Chanyeol said with a smile that he couldn’t have contained if he tried. He offered his hand to Kyungsoo, who took it in his own.

The dark ballroom was lit in shades of deep blue and purple, just a touch of yellow light coming from the twinkle lights wrapped around each of the round tables set up around the room. Kyungsoo led him to the parquet dance floor. He held Chanyeol’s hand in one of his own and placed the other on Chanyeol’s waist, just like he had shown him in the basement, and began to sway to the beat and to Billy Corgan’s whining.

“I really am lucky,” Kyungsoo said, looking up at Chanyeol.

He leaned forward to rest his head against Chanyeol’s chest, and Chanyeol tucked his chin against the crown of Kyungsoo’s head. They swayed gently, pressed close, breathing each other’s air.

Chanyeol eyed his cousin and her husband dancing in the center of the floor, their smiles absolutely glowing, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he and Kyungsoo would be in the same position years down the line. He didn’t know what would happen in the near future. He was no fortune teller, couldn’t even begin to predict it. He could hope, though, that this moment was the beginning of he and Kyungsoo’s long future together. Chanyeol couldn’t wait.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Here's a trade secret: since this one involves dancing and baseball I almost titled after the iconic gay song in hsm2. Also if you’re interested, here’s a lil spotify playlist I made for this fic! goo.gl/swgfx4
> 
> Thanks to Ash as always, and thank you for reading!


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